


Midnight Adventures

by ashkatom



Series: 100 Follower Ficathon [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 04:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashkatom/pseuds/ashkatom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humanstuck! Wherein two strangers get bored at a party and are united by the moving storm front of awkwardness that is Pollux Captor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Adventures

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was "How about some more Signless/Dualscar in which Signless continues to be somewhat awkward and adorable?"
> 
> I may or may not continue this at some point :|a I think it needs more than what it has.

Being best bropals with Pollux Captor may have just been the worst idea you’d ever had. That definitely means something, given that you have a long history of terrible ideas, starting with What If I Go To College With Pol So At Least I Have A Friend and ending with I Guess Going To This Party Won’t Hurt, which you rank somewhere in the top five worst ideas in the history of mankind.

Thank fuck for smokers.

You don’t smoke. You don’t even particularly like smoke. You have no fond memories of the substance from parents or cool older relatives, and to be perfectly honest you think it’s rank and the smell never comes out of your clothes. You like _smokers_ , however. They are completely willing to let you sit on their porch, close enough to seem to be part of a group so nobody talks to you, but far enough away that you don’t hack up a lung. Furthermore, they seem completely unwilling to come near you in case you try to cadge one of their hard-earned cigs. Smokers are the light at the end of the tunnel that is forced social interaction.

You’re playing sudoku on your phone when a stranger sits beside you on the stairs, dangling his legs off the edge. You look at him out of the corner of your eye - expensive shirt, expensive pants, expensive jacket that isn’t as awesome as he thinks it is, stupid dyed hair, and a couple of deep scars running across his face that he is _clearly_ insecure about - and sigh.

“I don’t have a smoke, I don’t have a light, and you just ruined my time on this sudoku.” You turn the screen of your phone off and shove it in a pocket. “So what do you want?”

Far from being put off, he offers you a drink. “You looked bored.”

You stare at him, then accept the drink and pop it open. “Do you often patrol parties looking for people who aren’t having enough fun?”

He snorts, which is decidedly less elegant than the image he’s trying to project. You like him a little more for it. “A’ course. If you were havin’ any less fun, I’d a’ had to escort you off the premises on account a’ you bein’ a joykill.”

You hold up your wrists. “It’s a fair cop, guv. I was about to go inside and start glowering at my friend until everyone in the room was slightly uncomfortable.”

“I regret ta inform you, but if your friend was the one with the eyes, he’s gone upstairs an’ I don’t think he’ll be comin’ down again soon.” Your stranger reclines against the railing of the stairs. “An’ he owes me for dry cleanin’.”

You put two and two together and resist the urge to drive a knife into your eye. “Jesus fuck, I can’t take him anywhere. I’ll get him to hand-deliver the money with a note of apology.” You go to get up and fetch your stupid manic best friend who thinks that everything is a great idea and chill already KC, but the stranger grabs your elbow before you can walk off. “What?”

“Ampora,” he says, offering a hand. “Delfin Ampora, except if you try to call me Delfin I’m throwin’ you in the pool. Want to go get somethin’ to eat?”

You consider. On the one hand, there’s interrupting Pol (awkward) and probably causing a mood crash that you’ll have to deal with (not fun), but on the other there’s skipping out for a while with a guy named after a fucking dolphin who may or may not try to kidnap you.

The kidnapping may in fact be an improvement.

You text Pol - GOING TO GO GET FOOD WITH THE GUY WHOSE ROOM YOU ARE BORROWING, IT IS EXACTLY AS AWKWARD AS YOU THINK, THANKS A BUNCH, FUCKFACE, ALSO CALL THE POLICE IF I GET KIDNAPPED. \- then dust yourself off before saying, “Karcin. Let’s roll, Ampora.”

\--

Instead of going to some shitty 24-hour fast food place, like you expected, he leads you first to a fish-and-chip shop with one employee, three deep fryers, and the most amazing chips you have ever tasted. After that he leads you down a road that suddenly turns into a beach, skidding down a sandy path with enough ease that means either he has night vision or he’s done this a lot.

“You bring all the guys here?” you ask as you follow him, doing a commendable job of not tripping over your own feet or dropping the chips.

“Only the bored ones playin’ sudoku,” he says. “There’s a table just up here, don’t trip.”

There is, in fact, a picnic table up ahead, sheltered enough that the wind won’t blow sand into your chips, which would be the biggest tragedy of the evening. You rip open the packet of chips and weigh down the corners of the paper with your phone and keys.

“So,” you say, gesturing expansively with a chip. “What gives?”

Ampora, weirdo that you are beginning to suspect he is, sits cross-legged on the opposite bench, eating the chips one by one. He swallows the one he’s working on and gives you a look of honest confusion. “What?”

“It’s not every day you randomly decide to go on a food adventure with some guy you’ve known for five minutes.” You shrug. “Or maybe it is. I just want to know what you’re expecting here.”

“I’m not _expectin_ ’ anythin’!” He throws a chip at you, and it is so unexpected that you just sit there and let it bounce off you. “That is downright fuckin’ shameful an’ I resent the implication.”

You hold up your hands in defense. “Wow, forgive me for misreading the situation, then-”

“-maybe you’re kind a’ attractive an’ I’d like to get to know you a little better, but-”

“-I won’t make the mistake of thinking it’s - what.”

He closes his eyes. “If you’re straight I’m just goin’ to go jump off the pier now an’ save us all the embarrassment.”

“No, I didn’t,” you start, then trail off. “I wasn’t,” you try again, then you go for the hat trick and try out, “I don’t,” only to realise it’s going exactly as nowhere as all the other false starts. The problem is, despite your lack of experience, you are coming to the horrifying realisation that Ampora is actually kind of attractive. Long girl lashes, full lips, what you’re pretty sure is the frame of a swimmer hidden under all the layers he's wearing. You kind of object to the hair on principle, but it does suit him. The scars even manage to conspire to make him rakish.

You just used the word rakish to describe him. It’s certain, at this point, that you are completely fucked.

“I... I don’t do casual relationships,” you finally manage to say.

“Neither do I,” Ampora says. He’s watching you now with the kind of intensity you are completely unused to being focused on you. Both of you have forgotten the chips. “Are you sayin’-?”

You hold out your hand. “Phone. Before I talk myself out of this.”

He pulls out a phone and hands it to you. Surprise surprise, it’s an iPhone. You are pretty sure that you are giving your number to a fairly attractive, somewhat amusing hipster and you can’t quite find it in yourself to care.

“I’m not promising anything,” you say as you enter your number. “I’m not good at this shit.”

Something in you flips when he smiles. Maybe you’re not making such a mistake after all.

\--

what 2eriiou2ly  
that’2 pretty awkward  
kc  
kc kc kc  
kc ii 2wear two god ii wiill call the poliice  
iif you’ve been murdered by thii2 guy ii get your 2tuff  
kc an2wer your phone already je2u2  
ii2 your phone on 2iilent agaiin  
kc ii am 2eriiou2ly goiing two put twogether a 2earch party iin a miinute  
BUSY. NOT DEAD. KEEP YOUR PAWS OFF MY STUFF OR I WILL CUT THEM OFF.  
bu2y wiith what?  
...I’M TURNING MY PHONE OFF NOW.  
holy 2hiit no way  
kc  
kc you jerk dii2h  
kc  
fiine  
ii hope he get2 you breakfa2t becau2e ii’m not makiing you any iif you’re goiing two be liike thii2  



End file.
